SWY 112

“Someone you know?”

“We spent the night together two days ago. He said he was from around here and knew the way to the villa, so we were heading there when we got separated.”

“No way he stripped himself in this cold… Looks like someone did this.”

“Don’t know if they killed him before or after stripping him, but his throat was slit.”

“They… cut off flesh.”

Lestel, frowning, pointed at Teddy’s thigh. There was a clean, circular cut where the inner flesh had been carved out with something sharp. Clicking his tongue, Sharhan scanned the area. Gilbert’s group was nowhere to be seen.

“Let’s go.”

It was unfortunate, but there was nothing they could do beyond a brief moment of mourning. Leaving Teddy’s corpse behind, Sharhan and Lestel resumed walking. Silence fell between them for a while, broken only when Lestel spoke.

“Why the thigh, though? Some perverted killer?”

He must’ve been quiet because he was trying to figure out the motive.

“That’s possible… but it could’ve been for food.”

“People eating people?!”

Sharhan answered calmly, taking Lestel’s hand as the latter cursed in disgust.

“It’s not that rare.”

“What?”

“It was fairly common during war. When there’s no food and hunger drives people mad, they do worse than animals.”

He’d seen people try to quench thirst and hunger with human blood and flesh, parents selling their own children for a few potatoes. Desperate humans were capable of anything. Of course, even in hardship, there were also many who never lost their humanity.

“Hell is always made by humans, no matter the place.”

Wars were started by humans, and the world being in this state… that, too, was humanity’s doing.

Lestel glanced at Sharhan, then suddenly smirked and tapped him on the butt.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ve earned it.”

“Earned what?”

“You came back alive from the war. If you had died there, we’d be rolling around in heaven by now.”

“You planning to follow me even there?”

“Of course. I’d go wherever you went. If you went to hell, I’d roll around there with you.”

“Rolling around no matter where we are, huh?”

“Well, like someone said, I’m a horny bastard.”

“You’re still bitter about that? Petty little shit.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve fucked you in my head? Thousands–no, tens of thousands of times. From the back.”

“Only fucked me? Not the other way around?”

“…….”

That curled smirk said enough, Lestel had never once imagined himself beneath.

“Liar. So that whole thing about offering me your ass was bullshit?”

“I’ll give it to you after I’ve done you as many times as I have in my head.”

“Tens of thousands, you said!”

“If we do it ten times a day, we’ll hit that number in no time.”

“Trying to kill me or what?”

“Honey, why are you acting so weak?”

“Get your hand off my ass… Is that a spear?”

A smile tugged at Sharhan’s lips as he spotted a spear buried in the snow. He ran over and yanked it out with force. It had snapped in half, but the tip was still sharp and the weight decent, usable. Tossing aside the poker, Sharhan kept the spear and naturally reached for Lestel’s hand.

Even after walking for quite a while, there was no sign of any usable food or clothing. Still, neither of them lost hope. They leaned on each other and kept going, even whistling occasionally, holding on to a sliver of expectation.

It wasn’t until sundown that they finally saw intact houses. They had made it out of the avalanche zone. From tomorrow on, they could probably pick up the pace.

“How about that one?”

Lestel pointed at a house after scanning both sides. Following his gaze, Sharhan saw a tightly closed door. Nodding, he stepped up to the window to peek inside but found it blocked by curtains. With no choice, they approached the front door and knocked on it with the axe.

“…….”

No sound came from within. After exchanging looks, they cautiously opened the door, and were instantly hit with a foul stench. Covering their noses, they entered, weapons drawn, and checked the interior.

They found an elderly couple lying dead together on the bed. Their hands were tightly clasped. A bowl lay on the floor beside them, and the wall bore a message:

‘Emily, Hobbs, we’re going first. Don’t grieve for us. Please survive.’

It looked like a suicide to avoid being a burden to their children.

Letting out a sigh, Sharhan closed the door firmly and asked,

“What do you think?”

Whether they should stay the night or look elsewhere. He was giving Lestel the choice because the smell from the rotting corpses was intense. Sharhan could endure it thanks to his time on the battlefield, but Lestel might not.

Lestel, caught between the stench and the darkening sky, looked around once more before deciding.

“It smells, but it’s just for a night. Let’s stay. We can light a fire, and… your fingers are red with frostbite.”

It wasn’t just his fingers, his exposed face and ears were red enough to make your heart ache. Nodding, Sharhan picked up a flint and some hay from the mantle above the ash-filled fireplace and handed them to Lestel. Thankfully, the flint was still usable.

There’s no sign they packed anything… Looks like the couple’s children never made it.

They probably met misfortune on the way. Sharhan’s gaze lingered on the shut bedroom door. At least the couple died with hope that their children lived.

“You start the fire.”

There wasn’t any firewood, but plenty of burnable items. While Lestel worked to spark the flames, Sharhan wandered the house gathering fuel, chairs, a table.

He couldn’t burn them whole, so he took them outside to break them up, then hurried back in before corpses could show up. Lestel, having finally lit the fire, waved at him to bring fuel quickly.

Sharhan rushed over, tossed in the wood, and blew on it. Lestel joined in. Ash flew into their eyes, making them sting, but they didn’t stop until the fire roared. When the flames finally caught and spread, Sharhan turned and laughed.

“Your face is covered in soot.”

“Like you’re any better.”

Lestel laughed too, wiping Sharhan’s face with his hand. They’d only confirmed their feelings the day before, but they kissed like old lovers and took a moment to warm up. Then they resumed searching the house for food.

All they found was a bit of flour scraped from the bottom of a jar.

“This is seriously all?”

“Let’s be grateful we even found that. There’s a kettle, we can melt snow and make a sort-of soup.”

Nodding, Lestel filled the kettle with snow. After melting it over the fire and mixing in the flour, they drank the thin soup.

“You must be starving. You need real food.”

Lestel gently touched Sharhan’s flat stomach in concern. The watery soup didn’t do much for the hunger, but Lestel hadn’t eaten either. Sharhan didn’t want to show weakness.

“I can manage.”

“If only we could find Thunder and Lightning, things would be easier.”

With all their supplies on the horses, finding them by whistle would greatly improve their journey.

“Thinking back, we had it easy thanks to Thunder and Lightning.”

“And we never had to worry about water or fire with Derry around.”

Their missing companions suddenly felt sorely needed. Worry crept in, were they safe, and would they reach Serman on foot?

Sharhan, troubled by these thoughts, forced them aside and lay down, only to sit back up. His robe, now damp from the fire’s heat, clung unpleasantly to his skin. Not just the robe, his pants and shirt, once frozen, were now thawed and sticky. Time to change into the clothes they’d found earlier.

“Your clothes are soaked too, right? Let’s change. We’ll catch colds otherwise.”

Sharhan handed over pants and a shirt. Fortunately, the old man who lived here had been large enough that both Sharhan and Lestel could wear his clothes without issue.

As they hurriedly changed, Sharhan turned to see Lestel retrieving a brooch from his wet clothes and smiled.

‘Why is he so obsessed with that brooch?’

Even while traveling from Verden to Luhas, Lestel never let go of that brooch and the contract.

“Where did you even get that brooch you treasure so much? Oh, and once we find Thunder and Lightning, let’s write up that contract first.”

“What contract… The magic one?”

“Yeah. After we got separated in that avalanche, that’s the one thing I regretted most. If we’d signed a magic contract earlier, I’d have known whether you were alive or dead. Not knowing was… hell.”

“Alright. Just like I said before, I–”

“I’ll sign it with my blood.”

“You’ll get hurt–”

Lestel looked alarmed, about to argue, when they heard footsteps. A hurried rattle of the doorknob.

“It-it’s locked! Is anyone inside? Please, open up!”

A woman’s desperate voice pleaded from beyond the door. Behind her, the growling of predators crept closer.

Unable to ignore people fleeing from the corpses, Sharhan flung the door open. Three people rushed inside. As soon as the door slammed shut, it thudded, bodies crashing against it.

It had been close.

Leaning against the door to keep it shut, the new arrivals, two men and one woman, turned around. Sharhan’s eyebrows rose in recognition as he saw them, breathless but alive.

They were Gilbert’s group, the ones who had spent a night in the cave with him.